Warm Springs
by CharlotteAshmore
Summary: The group feels as if they're going in circles after the fall of the farm, always trying to stay ahead of hordes of the dead. Seeking refuge in Warm Springs, they're allowed to take a breather, but will Daryl let his guard down enough to see what's been in front of him all this time and take a chance at happiness? Carol certainly hopes so.
1. Frozen Souls

**Disclaimer** : All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Nor do I own any rights to Warm Springs, GA. I just thought it was a cool setting for this fic.

 **Tags** : *Daryl Dixon/Carol Peletier, *Caryl, *Daryl Dixon, *Carol Peletier, *Rick Grimes, *Lori Grimes, *Carol Grimes, *T-Dog, *Hershel Greene, *Beth Greene, *Maggie Greene, *Glenn Rhee, *Season 2/3 Interlude, *Hot Springs, *AU – Canon Divergence, *Angst (just a little), *Smut, *Fluff,

 **Summary** : The group feels as if they're going in circles after the fall of the farm, always trying to stay ahead of hordes of the dead. Seeking refuge in Warm Springs, they're allowed to take a breather, but will Daryl let his guard down enough to see what's been in front of him all this time and take a chance at happiness? Carol certainly hopes so.

 **Rating:** M/E

 **A/n** : The blood ponies are running amok again. Therefore, I thought I would write this little tale for my dear friend - Ladybugsmomma - for Christmas. Hope you all enjoy this little sn 2/3 interlude. And a blessed Christmas to all.

 **Warm Springs**

 **By:**

 **CharlotteAshmore**

Chapter One - Frozen Souls

Carol shivered uncontrollably against Daryl's back where she rode behind him on the Triumph. She pulled her gloved hands from his coat pockets and lifted her face to the winter sun as he turned the key, the bike falling silent. Her teeth chattered as she looked back over her shoulder at the few vehicles which had followed them through the gates. Her joints were stiff from the cold, and she felt the loss of his warmth immediately as he climbed off the motorcycle and reached for his crossbow.

"Go," he commanded brusquely, jerking his chin in the direction of the Suburban. "Climb in th' front with Lori an' try t' get warm." _An' fuckin' stay there, woman,_ was left unsaid between them, a silent communication she knew better than to disobey.

Carol did as he'd ordered, hurrying to the Suburban, her eyes following him as he headed towards Rick, Glenn and T-Dog to shut and lock the barrier behind them. Lori threw open the door as she approached, pulling the woman inside to sit with her on the bench seat. She turned the heater on full blast and wrapped her arms around her friend, her hands rubbing briskly to restore warmth to her shaking limbs.

"I swear I don't know how you can stand to ride with him, Carol," Lori lamented for what must have been the hundredth time since they'd been run off the farm, leaving death and destruction in their wake. "Especially when you know there's more than enough room in here with us."

Carol sometimes wondered herself. Daryl was her friend – though he would probably deny it should someone ask him outright – and she felt safest with him. Dixon had been a pillar of strength during the darkest time of her life, and it had forged a bond – tentative yet unbreakable – between them. The pain, both wore like a cloak, seemed to call to the other, drawing them closer. She was nothing but a burden, or so she felt, and Daryl was always one step away from leaving them all in the dust. Neither felt as if they were truly part of the group, always lingering along the fringes. Yet more and more often, she'd found him seeking her approval in even the smallest of things. She couldn't understand him, why he sought her out, why he insisted she stick close to him, why he fought so hard to protect her. But she cherished him … every look, every deed, every gruff word uttered from his chapped lips.

She warred with herself constantly, loathing the fact her daughter was barely cold, and she was taking comfort in her friendship with the hunter. She didn't deserve her small measure of joy when Sophia had none. Yet, it would be easier to cure the virus than turn off her feelings for Daryl Dixon. He wouldn't allow her to give up, pushing her daily to learn new skills with every weapon available to them, adamant she fight to survive. Carol didn't want to acknowledge the true depths of her feelings for him, afraid if she would admit her love he would be taken from her too. It was something she couldn't bear to contemplate, the thought sending a shudder to rip through her petite frame.

"Wh-Where are we? D-Did Rick say? Daryl didn't, too anxious to g-get those gates closed." Carol asked, peering through the windshield at the grand house looming before them.

"The sign said _Warm Springs, Georgia_ ," Lori replied as she continued to try to warm her friend. "Rick said we're about sixty miles south of Atlanta."

Carol watched the men – armed to the teeth – mount the steps leading onto the porch of the old plantation house, leaving Carl to protect the women and wait for the _all clear_. Sixty miles? Sometimes – especially recently – it appeared the group was going in circles. She'd lost count of the times they'd gotten cut off by a herd. T-Dog was trying to keep track of where they'd been, the miles they traveled, so they could stay one step ahead of the dead, but in the end, it was pointless. Now, here they were again in a location which might only shelter them for an hour, perhaps two … if they were lucky. Never would she let herself hope they might have found some place which would allow them refuge for an entire night, a night where they wouldn't have to run or suffer the frigid temperatures of mid-December.

Carl leaned his chin on the back of the seat next to his mother's shoulder. "I remember this place from History class, Mom. That's the _Little White House_ ," he said, pointing towards the massive structure before them. "It's President Roosevelt's presidential library. He used to come here to bathe in the hot springs, seeking relief for his polo."

"You mean polio?" Lori asked with an indulgent smile.

"Yeah, that's it. This place has loads of 'em, and the temperature of the water is eighty-eight degrees year-round," he said proudly, glad he'd paid attention in class. "Remember, Mrs. Lawrence was going to organize a summer trip for our class before the outbreak."

Maggie leaned over the seat, grinning widely. "Do you know what this means?" she queried, barely able to contain her excitement. "We'll be able to have a bath AND wash clothes!"

Carol giggled. "Heaven!"

Lori plucked at her plaid button-down, wrinkling her nose. "Our clothes are no better than those you'd find on a walker. I'm surprised they haven't walked right off our bodies."

Carl snorted. "You are pretty disgusting, Mom!"

Carol's smile faded. After the last place they'd had to abandon – having to leave their packs and supplies behind – clothes were in short supply, leaving only those on their backs. Several attempts at looting had provided new camping gear, sleeping bags and blankets, but clothes … not so much. "We might be able to get a bath, and everyone can wash their clothes at the same time, but that's going to leave us running around with nothing but a blanket to cover us. Do you think we could chance it?"

Maggie's brow knit worriedly. "The wall around this place seems pretty sturdy, solid enough to keep the dead out. I think it's worth the risk. And it's not like we haven't all seen each other naked before with the lack of privacy."

"I'd actually pay good money to see Dixon clean," Lori smirked.

"You mean he wasn't born with at least five layers of filth?" Maggie joked.

Carol rolled her eyes at the both of them. "You're never going to get Daryl to take a bath." She knew for a fact he would set himself to guarding them all while the group bathed, but he wouldn't trust anyone to watch his own back.

"We could have Castro make it an order," Carl chimed in, referring to his father.

"Carl, stop calling your father that. You know it makes him all pissy," Lori admonished, though she couldn't really disagree. Yet, she'd be lying if she tried to refute the claim. A chasm had formed between her and her husband, one she didn't know if she'd ever breach.

"Even then, I doubt Daryl would obey."

Lori watched Daryl step out onto the porch and whistle, signaling it was safe for them to come inside, her lips turning up into a wicked grin. "I'll bet you a week of washing dishes Dixon has a bath before nightfall."

Carol shrugged, happily pondering a week free of the odious chore. "You're on," she chortled in amusement. The only way Lori would get Daryl in one of the springs was if she tricked him, and she knew her friend wasn't brave enough to attempt it.

*.*.*

Carol stared at the opulent rooms which led off the main foyer, flitting from one to another, her eyes wide, lips parted in awe. The old plantation home turned presidential library looked as if it hadn't been touched by the spread of the virus. There was a fine coating of dust on every surface, but the rank smell of walker, of death and decay, was blessedly absent. It was the best place they'd found thus far, and she could easily let her mind wander, imagining making an effort to turn the house into their new home. She nipped her musings in the bud, refusing to let herself hope. It would be Rick's decision, and as manic as he'd been lately, she was sure he'd find something wrong with it and have them moving on.

She nearly collided with Daryl as she entered the main library. "Oh, I'm sorry," she murmured, quickly dropping her hands where they'd braced against his chest, her cheeks flooding with color.

His hands settled at her waist, steadying her before he took a step back, gnawing at the inside of his lip as he watched her through the fringe of his lashes. "S'a'right … y' ok?"

"Yeah," she replied, mustering up a smile for him.

Daryl glanced over his shoulder before returning his gaze to her. "I … uhm … dropped our stuff over there. Figured it was as good a spot as any, an' T brought in our supplies. With th' two fireplaces in this room, we should be able t' keep from freezin' t' death t'night." Carol felt her stomach flutter as his smoky blue gaze affixed firmly to hers for more than a fleeting moment. "That a'right? I mean, y' don't have t' share with me if y' don't want t' … not now we've got heat an' room t' spread out."

Carol reached out and laid a reassuring hand on his arm, pleasure coursing through her when he didn't flinch or pull away. "I _want_ to share with you, Daryl," she said gently. "I enjoy your company, and … you make me feel safe. There's nowhere I'd rather be than with you."

The hunter ducked his head and nodded, heat climbing up his neck to settle into the tips of his ears. "I'm gonna see if I can't go out and bag some game. Be nice t' have some meat t' go with all those canned vegetables we scavenged yesterday."

"You're going out?" Rick asked, moving towards the doorway where Daryl stood with Carol. "Take someone with you. We don't know the lay of the land or how far the walls extend."

"Don't need none o' y'all stomping through th' woods scarin' off anythin' I can track. I'm goin' alone," Daryl hissed through his teeth, his eyes narrowed at their leader.

Rick raised his hands before him and took a step back. "It'd be safer. At least until we've had a chance to scout out this place a little."

Mind made up, Daryl turned away, ignoring Rick only to stop when he felt Carol's small hand tug on the sleeve of his jacket. "Be safe," she whispered, letting go.

The hunter shot one more disdainful look Rick's way before he turned and nodded at Carol.

Rick planted his hands firmly on his hips and released a long slow breath, shaking his head as he watched Daryl exit through the front door. Dixon was his second in command, a place he'd earned, never hesitating to follow Rick's orders when it came to the safety of the group. But he also wouldn't listen for shit when it came to disappearing into the woods alone.

"Leave it, Rick. Please," Carol suggested, her azure eyes pleading. "The forest is his solace … don't take that from him."

He sighed. "I know, Carol. I just worry about him being out there alone. We depend on him so much …"

She stiffened beside him. "Is that the only reason?"

"What? No … he's my friend," he assured her. "You should know better than anyone we've come a long way since he threw that stringer of squirrels at me and pulled his knife."

Carol allowed him to steer her into the room, his hand hovering near the small of her back. "Daryl needed time to find his way, Rick. All he'd ever known was Merle," she sighed. "It had been the two of them for a long time with his brother running the show. Daryl was expected to follow blindly and go along with whatever Merle wanted. It wasn't the best situation."

A deep frown knitted his brow. "Daryl tell you this?"

"Not in so many words." They stopped near the hearth set into the far wall where Glenn had just built a nice fire to chase the chill from the room. "It's just an observation, snippets of conversation I don't think he realizes he'd revealed. Just … please, Rick, be patient with him. Once you have his loyalty, it will not falter."

He crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest. "But if he goes out there and gets himself killed –"

Carol shot him a patient smile. "You just have to trust he can take care of himself. Daryl was made for this world. Moreso than any of us." She interrupted again before he could protest. "Might I make a suggestion if you're that worried about him?"

Rick nodded, wondering how she could so easily read the hunter. He was a cop, trained to search out the truth in any given situation, but where Daryl was concerned, he was lost. "What did you have in mind?"

"Perhaps it would be a good idea to send out pairs to walk the perimeter. The property can't be all that big, right? The trees at the back is likely where Daryl has gone to hunt … within shouting distance to any who might be wandering by should he find himself in trouble …"

"That's downright brilliant, Carol … sneaky, but brilliant," he grinned. "Alright, let's gather everyone together and make plans before I pair everyone off."

Carol watched him go, feeling rather pleased with herself that she'd lifted his mood. He'd had very little to smile about lately, what with the strain in his marriage and the pressure of finding a safe place for the group. And perhaps if he was open to suggestions, he'd listen to just one more.

*.*.*

"I reckon we can use this room to camp out in for the time we'll be here," Rick said as the meeting began … minus their hunter who hadn't yet returned from his foray into the woods. "We've got two fireplaces, so it shouldn't take long to warm up. We can burn the books if we run out of wood before we can collect or chop more."

"Dad, we are NOT burning books!" Carl protested quite vehemently. "Centuries of our history is in this library. If by some miracle the entire population doesn't die out, we'll need this."

Rick gaped at his son, surprised at his passion. He knew his boy had always favored history in school, but when it came to keeping them warm, it would surely be a necessary sacrifice. "Carl –"

"No, he's right," Glenn added, coming to the boy's defense. "There needs to be a record for those who come after."

T-Dog leaned an arm against the mantle and shrugged. "There has to be something in here we can burn. Maybe something like _A Rich Dude's Guide to Golfing_ or some shit."

Carol snickered from her place next to Lori on one of the many leather sofas spread throughout the library.

Rick shook his head and relented. "Ok, we'll only burn books not pertaining to our history." He shot a look of askance towards his son, relieved to see Carl nodding in satisfaction. He turned to Maggie. "Did you find anything in the kitchen? Anything we can add to our stores?"

"I didn't even attempt to open the refrigerator, but the pantry provided a good haul of canned goods and dry products. Soon as we get settled, we can whip something up for dinner tonight."

Hershel leaned back on the sofa he shared with Beth. "I think tomorrow we should go through some of the rooms upstairs to see what we can find."

"Ok," Rick agreed, "before we pair off to check the perimeter, are there any other concerns?"

Lori arched a brow in her husband's direction, surprised he was actually willing to ask their opinions. "I think we all need a bath. I, for one, don't think we should let those hot springs go to waste. Not to mention, we all need to wash our clothes."

"Well, I ain't running around this place in my birthday suit waiting for my clothes to dry," T-Dog snorted. Beth looked alarmed, her eyes wide as she glanced at her father.

"No one is going to have to run around naked, T," Carol chuckled. "There is our trove of blankets to cover up with, and I'm sure there's more upstairs. This was a home once, preserved, I'm sure, with where Roosevelt slept when he was here."

"Yeah, there were a couple bedrooms," Glenn added.

"Good. First the perimeter, dinner, and then we'll see about getting in a wash before we bed down for the night," Rick said, pleased to see the faint smiles from the group. He didn't have to be a hard ass _all_ the time.

*.*.*

Daryl leaned his shoulder against a beech tree and lit a cigarette, his head falling back as he inhaled the pungent smoke, delighting in the nicotine rush spiraling through his body. He stared down at the stringer of four rabbits which bounced against his right hip with every movement, idly wondering how he'd found enough focus to bag that many. His emotions were all over the place … relief they'd found a place for the night – hopefully more than one night - anger for snapping at Rick when the man hadn't meant any harm, and confusion over Carol. Always his Carol. He rubbed his chest where her hands had been braced just a few hours before, his nerves still awake and alive from her soft touch. He wanted her so badly. It was a burning ache in his body he couldn't seem to quench despite his efforts to find release.

For a shy introverted man who'd never known love before in his life, he'd fallen hard. It had taken him even longer to recognize the emotion for what it was. The time they'd spent together searching for Sophia had brought out a softer side to his personality, one to which she'd eagerly responded. Carol had a fair share of ghosts in her past, abuse both mental and physical, making it easy to recognize the signs in him. She scared the hell out of him, creeping beneath his walls without notice until it had all come crashing down on him in the form of her daughter's death. He hadn't wanted to accept it and looked for someone to blame, lashing out at her because he couldn't deal with his pain, his failure. He'd wanted nothing more than to bring that little girl home to her mama.

Daryl took another drag off his cigarette as he looked to the position of the sun, wondering how much longer he'd have out in the woods before Rick sent someone to look for him. He shouldered his crossbow and turned back in the direction of the house. The last thing he wanted was for Carol to worry.

His mind filled with visions of her sweet smile. She was so strong, and didn't even know it. She'd fought for him, brushed off his verbal abuse that night on the farm, determined to keep him chained to the group, and though she didn't realize it … to _her_. He should have left, he thought bitterly. He didn't deserve her kindness or care. Yet, he craved it deep within his ragged soul. He'd submitted to her will; something he'd vowed he would never allow to happen again … not after being enchained to his father for too many years to count, and then again to his brother. Daryl had never felt such a connection to another as he did with Carol.

That last night on the farm when he'd plucked her from ashes and ruin, he'd known. Deep in his heart, he'd known he would always belong to her. Dixon's mated for life, and the beast within him had roared its pleasure to have her molded to his back, her slender arms wrapped around his chest as they rode towards safety. Daryl had made it his mission to train her in defense, arming her with a knife of her own. He schooled her in weapons, making her break down their rifles and handguns and reassemble them until her fingertips were bruised. She'd never find herself defenseless again, not if he could help it. He would not allow her to fall, and he would stick by her side to make sure of it.

And she could never know how deeply his feelings ran for her. She considered him her friend … her best friend – for some unknown reason as gruff and surly as he was with her. He couldn't bear to see rejection and pity in those eyes which haunted his dreams. Even now, his body burned for her, but Dixons had never been lucky in love.

 **A/n: Hope you're enjoying! Will have chapter two out to you tomorrow. Let me know what you think about it so far :D Merry Christmas!**


	2. Freezing Bodies

Chapter Two - Freezing Bodies

"NO!" Daryl fiercely stated around a mouthful of instant mashed potatoes. They went well with the roasted rabbit Carol had cooked on spits in the hearth, a pan placed beneath them to catch some of the drippings to make gravy. Damn, but his woman could cook. "Absolutely not! This place is a good five acres an' needs t' be searched for walkers. Ain't lettin' th' women go frollickin' in one o' th' springs an' end up as a walker's next fuckin' meal. NO!"

Glenn glanced at the irate hunter over his shoulder from where he and Maggie were trying to hang a few clothes lines between the bookshelves. "Soo … we're not –"

"Yes, we are," Rick sighed wearily, rubbing a hand over the nape of his neck as Lori handed him a plate. "While you were hunting, we combed the area for walkers and only found four. They were wearing the uniform which matched the décor in the reception area off the parlor. They probably locked the gates and decided to stay during the first wave of the outbreak."

Daryl eyed him, one brow arching. "Yeah? Then why ain't they still alive an' occupyin' this space?"

Rick paused, his fork hovering frozen near his mouth as he tried to come up with a viable response. Hershel quickly came to his rescue. "One of the ladies was bitten. No doubt she turned and infected the others."

Carol took a seat next to Daryl and ate quietly, listening to the men bicker. Finally, Daryl turned away from the others and gave her his full attention. "That all y' eatin'?" At her puzzled nod, he tipped a spoonful of his potatoes and a piece of rabbit onto her plate. She opened her mouth to protest, but quickly closed it considering the mood he was in. Now was not the time to argue. He cracked open a soda they'd looted from the pantry and drank half before offering her the rest. Leaning over so only she could hear, he complimented her. "Damn fine meal, woman."

Carol nodded stiffly and continued to eat, the only indication she'd heard him aside from the rosy blush coloring her cheeks. Daryl could tell from her posture and lack of response he'd fucked up.

"Y' pissed at me?" he asked, maintaining the soft whisper so they could speak privately. "C'mon, Carol, don't be like that. Y' ain't never questioned me before when it came t' your safety."

She passed her plate to Lori with a nod, a silent order to eat what she'd left untouched before her eyes met Daryl's. "I want a bath, Daryl … everyone does. Actually, _want_ doesn't even come into this. We all NEED a bath. I feel so disgusting I can barely stand myself, and let me tell you, it's no picnic when I can't distinguish between your scent at night and that of a walker!" His lips parted, but she interrupted him before he could speak. "Do you realize we could get sick from being this filthy? Is that what you want?" she whisper-shouted.

Daryl snapped his mouth shut and slammed his tin plate down against the hardwood floor with a bang. He rose to his feet, his face burning as he grabbed his crossbow and headed towards the door without a word.

"Where are you going?" Rick called after him, half rising to go after him.

The hunter stopped mid-stride to glare at their leader. "The women want a bath," he sneered. "I'm goin' out t' scout around th' nearest spring."

Lori's dark brows disappeared somewhere near her hairline as she looked over at her friend. "God, Carol, what'd you say to him?"

Carol's gaze remained on the door for a little more than a beat before she turned to Lori with a shrug of her thin shoulders. "I just … pointed out the merits of a bath. I shouldn't have pushed him, though," she murmured, regret heavy in her tone.

T-Dog bumped his shoulder against hers where he sat to her left. "C'mon, Carol, don't beat yourself up about it. You know Dixon don't hold a grudge for long."

She snorted. "Easy for you to say, T. You don't have to share his bedroll."

Lori and Rick shared a look and grinned, the animosity between them falling away as they both relished this new development between their friends.

*.*.*

Daryl paced back and forth behind Carol where she sat with a small washtub and scrub board, soapy bubbles floating on the surface of the water. Of course, she'd volunteered, not trusting the others to do a thorough job. He wasn't about to argue with her. His pride still stung from her comparison between him and a walker. _Did he really smell that awful?_ Instead of dwelling on it, however; he kept an eye out for danger while the others indulged in a long-overdue bath. The men had gone first – Lori nearly pushing Rick into the water with all his clothes on before she'd tossed him a bar of soap they'd found and then returning to the house.

He set his crossbow down beside him as he knelt next to Carol, taking a pair of pants from her and wringing the water from them. "Y' ain't always got t' do everythin', woman. Y' shoulda asked Olive Oyl and Maggie t' help y' … or Beth. Gawd knows ain't no one ever makes that girl do a damn thing."

"Perhaps they see Beth as the entertainment in this group," she said, biting her lip to stifle her laughter. "Everyone loves her singing, don't you know."

"Don't even start," Daryl scoffed. "I've heard cats fuckin' that sound better than that."

Carol tried to hide her grin, but it was useless. "Don't be mean. Everyone does their fair share."

Daryl tossed Rick's pants to the side and shot her a side-eyed look. "Naw, they don't. Y' take it all on yerself an' let them have what's left. Y' ain't gotta shoulder th' burden alone, Carol."

She scrubbed a little harder at some of the stains littering Carl's button up. "If I can make myself useful, perhaps I won't feel like such a burden. We've gone over this before … there's nothing more to say." Carol could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, but he didn't argue further. He had his own hang-ups when it came to the group and fitting in. She reached out and rested her hand atop his, gracing him with the rare smile she reserved solely for him. "Thank you … for helping."

Daryl grunted in response, his hands swift and sure as he made his way through the pile with her. They were taking advantage of her, and it pissed him off to no end, but he couldn't intervene if she wouldn't let him. Sometimes, he just wanted to revert to the person he'd been before Carol's influence in his life and tell them all to fuck off. He didn't think his woman would take too kindly to that though.

His eyes darted around the perimeter of the spring before he noticed the men climbing out one by one and wrapping themselves in their warm blankets. He didn't envy them the trek back to the house. The hot spring might have been a lovely eighty-eight degrees, but he could just imagine how frigid it would be to step out and have the cold weather wrap around a wet body.

Glenn looked like a bad version of the mummy as he came to stand next to Carol. "Th-Thank you so m-much, Carol, for w-washing our clothes. Would y-you like me to t-t-take them back to the house and g-get them hung up in the library to d-dry?"

"Yes, would you? And tell the girls it's their turn."

Daryl thrust the basket at Glenn with a snicker. "Best hurry, Short Round, before y' freeze off somethin' vital."

Carol rose to her feet as Glenn rolled his eyes and left, causing Daryl to look up at her from beneath his lashes. "What y' doin'?" he asked in alarm as she reached for the hem of her shirt.

She paused, smiling gently as her arms crossed over her torso, ready to pull her shirt off. "I'm taking off my clothes, so I can wash them, Daryl. What does it look like?"

He blushed ten shades of red, his eyes wide and panicked. "Now?! But –"

"Yes, now. I thought I would get a head start on my own before the others came down."

Daryl scowled blackly – which he was sure wouldn't have the desired effect on her what with the tomato red tint of his face – as he moved to the heap of blankets and retrieved the cornflower blue quilt he'd procured for her on a run. He whipped it around her shoulders and held it closed in front of her, nodding in satisfaction to see she wouldn't be exposed to the elements … _or_ his gaze.

Carol fought back a giggle, knowing he wouldn't appreciate it in the least. "Shy, Dixon?" she teased.

"Stahp."

He watched mesmerized as first her shirt and then her white lace bra fell to her bare feet. She'd removed her boots earlier, so she could dip her toes in the spring. Daryl gnawed nervously at the inside of his lip, light-headed at the thought of her naked beneath the blanket. He prayed she wouldn't look down and see the evidence of his arousal pressing against his zipper. It only got worse when her pants and underwear joined the growing pile. _Fuck!_

"Hold onto th' edges for a sec," he commanded gruffly, slipping out of his jacket and holding it out to her.

"Daryl, you're going to be cold."

"Naw, I'm a'right," he assured her. With the amount of heat surging through his body, he doubted he'd ever be cold again. "Put that on an' wrap the quilt around your waist. It'll keep y' warm while y' do th' rest o' th' wash."

Carol tilted her head to the side and regarded him curiously before he turned away and resumed his seat, ready to help her once more. It still amazed her, the level of caring he exuded towards her.

*.*.*

"Strip!"

"What?!"

"You heard me," Carol deadpanned. "Strip, so I can wash your things. Especially that vest. I swear it has to have fifty layers of walker guts covering it."

His face paled at the thought of shedding his armor. "I can wash my own damn clothes," he grumbled, his hands tightening on his leather vest as she tried to push it off his shoulders. The rest of the women, done with their baths, had taken the wash back to the house to hang, leaving Carol to her solitary bath and Daryl to watch over her.

"I know you can, Daryl, but there's no need when I can do it for you. If I wash and you wring, we'll be done faster. Then I can finally have my bath and go back to the house before you get naked. And don't you even think of coming to bed until you've had a thorough scrubbing, Dixon."

"Pfft!" His eyes narrowed, angry at the panic welling in his chest. What she'd proposed was the most logical solution, but he couldn't stand the thought of having so little between them. As it was, the thought of sharing a sleeping bag with her was outright torture. He swiped up his crossbow and stalked off, calling behind him, "Get yer ass in th' water, woman!"

And just how was he supposed to stand watch with her inches away without a stitch on? He cursed inwardly and darted around a tree near the water's edge. He could hear the rustle of fabric as the blanket dropped from where it had been draped around her hips, and he groaned. He peeked around the rough bark of the tree, his breath hitching in his throat as he saw the long, toned perfection of her legs, his jacket just covering the supple roundness of her ass. Carol's back arched, the stiff denim beginning to slide over her shoulders. His back slammed into the tree, his eyes closing tightly to block out the wanton vision dancing behind his irises as he fought for breath. No woman had ever affected him so strongly.

 _Fuckin' hell! I'm a peepin' Tom!_

Daryl heard a soft splash, followed by the soft melodic tones of her voice as she happily hummed a tune he didn't recognize. God, what was she doing to him? He wanted to join her in the water – his scars be damned – and pull her flush with his body, to feel her curves pressed to his lean lines, to bury himself deep within her heat and lose himself to her touch. He wanted to let every secret, every desire, spill from his lips against the shell of her ear and claim her for his own.

He shook himself out of his reverie and fought to get his body under control. He couldn't remain in hiding, not when his woman was all alone out there. He needed to focus on the perimeter of the spring and insure nothing came upon her wishing to cause her harm. He would deal with his traitorous libido once he made sure she was safe.

Carol frowned down at the bar of soap in her hands as she tried to build a lather. What wouldn't she do for a decent bottle of body wash. Ivory had never been her favorite, but who was she to complain if the soap did its job? Already she felt cleaner, and a soft sigh escaped her parted lips.

She'd felt Daryl's eyes on her, trailing over her body as she'd shucked her blanket and the jacket he'd loaned her. A fiery blush had stolen into her cheeks at the feel of his gaze. But why? Why would he want to look upon her when he hadn't spared a glance at the other women? Carol wasn't going to delude herself into thinking he might want her. Sometimes, she wondered if he would want any woman, his aversion to touch keeping even those he was familiar with at bay. _He lets YOU touch him,_ her mind whispered. Daryl trusted her, though, trusted her not to hurt him. He was her friend, she argued with herself. They shared that bond … but it didn't mean he wanted her in _that_ way.

Carol caught movement from the corner of her eye, and her head whipped around to watch her protector as he made a circuit around the spring. Once again, she'd felt his gaze, and heat pooled low in her belly. She found herself fervently wishing he'd shuck his filthy clothes and join her in the water. A smile curled at the corner of her mouth as she let her mind wander, wondering what it would be like to bathe him, her hands caressing every inch of his body, her fingers scrubbing gently at his scalp, her lips sucking softly at the pulse point throbbing madly beneath his jaw.

She ducked her head beneath the water to rinse her hair. _Wishing is for fools, Carol Ann,_ she chided herself. _Just be happy for what you have._

*.*.*

Daryl couldn't ever remember being so cold … not when he'd been lost for nine days on his own, not when he and his brother had gone hunting in the northern foothills of Georgia and Merle had forgotten the tent, and certainly not since the group had been on the road suffering the onset of winter. He had Carol to keep him warm on those long nights when he would lie awake and wonder if they would survive to see the sunrise. He shivered violently as he continued to pace the wide veranda which wrapped around the house, pulling his thin blanket more securely around his body.

He was being stupid. He should have gone inside an hour ago when he'd finished his bath, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. His teeth chattered so loudly, it would probably draw walkers from miles around, but still he couldn't find the willpower to reach out and turn the doorknob. It wasn't as if he hadn't climbed into the same bedroll with Carol every night for the past two months. _But y' ain't never climbed in with her NAKED!_ His inner voice was becoming a pain in his ass, playing on his fears instead of offering relief. He couldn't even close his eyes without the vision of her at the spring coming to life in vivid detail.

 _I am so fucked!_ Daryl thought briefly of claiming one of the sofas, but shot the idea down before it could take root. He doubted he could sleep at all without Carol's warmth curled into his side. It was a blur as to how it had all begun. One minute he had been watching her shiver uncontrollably, wrapped in a rag which served as her blanket, and the next he was offering to share his bedroll with her, the words falling unbidden from his lips. No one wanted to be in such close proximity with him, yet she hadn't hesitated, diving under his warmer blanket and stretching beside him like a pampered housecat. There had been more than a few instances he'd woken to find her head tucked beneath his chin, her arm curled tightly around his waist, and – he groaned at the thought – her thigh wedged between his legs, pressing deliciously against his groin. And now he was stuck. How could he crawl into their sleeping bag – not a stitch on – without her becoming aware of his obvious attraction for her? He wondered if it was too late to throw himself into a herd. Being torn apart by the dead would surely be less painful than the embarrassment he was sure to suffer.

Daryl stared up at the moon as it showed itself through the smattering of clouds. He knew he couldn't linger any longer. _Maybe she's asleep already,_ he mused hopefully. He let himself into the house and shot the deadbolt into place before shoving two heavy side tables in front of it. The gates had been secured and a thick brick wall surrounded the property, but there was no reason not to take every precaution. The one circuit he'd made around the top of the wall had revealed nothing least of all walkers. Which wasn't to say they wouldn't find any when they scouted the nearby town come morning.

He paused before the door of the library, his wet clothes slung over his arm. Already, he could feel a rush of heat brush over his feet from the crack between the door and hardwood floor. It was all the encouragement he needed as he opened the door and padded silently into the room.

He hadn't really noticed the enormity of the room before, yet now he took it all in. Lori, Carl and Rick had made themselves a nest by the hearth on the east wall, having pulled two sofas strategically in place to offer some measure of privacy. Hershel, Beth and T-Dog had arranged their meager bedding on a few of the sofas not too far away. Daryl began to make his way towards the west wall where he could see Glenn's dark head peeking from the bedroll he shared with Maggie. He frowned, his gaze still searching for Carol. A sofa and two overstuffed chairs had been pushed together, and he could see a vacant bit of line between the bookshelves where he could hang his clothes next to hers.

Carol's head popped up to peer at him over the back of the sofa as she heard him approach. _Well. Just. Shit! So much for her bein' asleep._ She rose to her feet, her blanket wrapped around her like a toga and took his wet things, moving to hang them on the line without a word. He shivered, but now he was wondering if it was due to the cold or the sight of her sweet backside and the way the quilt outlined it in perfect detail.

Daryl averted his gaze, slinging the crossbow off his shoulder to set it within easy reach next to the stone hearth beside their boots. She'd laid their sleeping bag on top of a thick sheepskin rug, and he knew it would offer a softer surface than the hard ground they were used to sleeping on. He dropped down in front of the fire, as close as he could get without injuring himself, and shoved his hands into his armpits, cursing as another shiver wracked his body.

"Oh, my god," Carol hissed as she dropped down beside him and got a good look. "You're freezing, Daryl, and your lips are blue. What took you so long?" She reached for him, and he felt the world tilt on its axis.

 _For fuck's sake, woman, don't touch me!_ He was already semi-hard from the tantalizing view of her behind. He doubted he'd be able to rein it in if she laid her hands on him. "S-Stood watch for a while. 'S q-quiet, though. Sh-Should be ok 'til mornin'. Not like I c-can send anyone else out in w-wet clothes," he stuttered out through chattering teeth. "Y' should b-be asleep."

Carol ignored his scolding tone and reached for him, biting her lip as he pulled away. "I was waiting for you. If you'd been out any longer, I was going to go look for you." She reached out again despite every sign he exuded warning her away. He wouldn't even meet her eyes. She shuddered as her hand came in contact with his icy skin. "Jesus! You're a step away from being hypothermic."

"'M f-fine!" he whisper-shouted, finally meeting her gaze.

"Yes, I can see you are," she deadpanned. She nodded towards their bedroll with a pointed look. "Get in."

He shook his head petulantly. "Ain't ready t' sleep. But don't lemme keep y' if you're ready t' turn in."

Carol's eyes narrowed. For a man who tried his damnedest to protect the group on a daily basis, he had no care for his own well-being. "Now, Dixon … or I swear I'll wake Hershel to check you over. AND I'll wake Rick to make sure you sit still for an exam."

His temper snapped, and it was only his respect for her which kept him from yelling. He wouldn't do that to her again, not when he was still kicking himself for the horrible things he'd said to her that night on the farm. "I'm a grown ass man, Carol. Don't need y' treatin' me like a fuckin' kid."

"Then stop acting like one." Her tone gentled. She didn't want to fight with him. "Let me help you, Daryl … please." Her hand slid over his bicep from shoulder to elbow in a calming caress, one she'd used on him before, and she could see some of the tension coiled within him begin to loosen. "Please."

Daryl's shoulders slumped in defeat. He'd hoped she'd have been sound asleep by the time he'd finally dragged himself to the warmth of the library, prayed he'd have been able to skirt past his embarrassment. God, he should have known better. There was some evil cosmic force which seemed to believe he didn't deserve to avoid such things as complete and utter mortification. He couldn't even be angry with her. Carol just wanted him to be warm. He'd be lucky if he didn't fall sick because of his innate need to hide from her, remaining out in the elements far longer than was healthy.

He had to admit it would be nice to tuck himself into the down sleeping bag and feel the ice leave his bones. It would be even warmer once Carol joined him. His cock twitched in anticipation, and he inwardly cursed, damning his traitorous body all to hell. Daryl closed his eyes and gave in, knowing she'd press him more if he refused. An argument just wasn't worth the effort. It never was with her. Nor was the guilt which always followed when he had to look into those sky-blue eyes and know he was responsible for her pain. _Damnit!_

The smile on her rosebud mouth was blinding as he crawled into the sleeping bag and pulled the fabric over his head. It was still warm from her body, tongues of heat creeping up his legs, over his stomach to settle somewhere near his heart. Now, if only he could stop shivering.

"Daryl …"

 _Oh, hell, now what?!_ He pulled the fabric from his face where only his eyes and nose were visible and arched a brow.

"Give me your blanket. It's still damp from your bath, and you're never going to warm up with it clinging to you," she said innocently, her brows knit in a concerned frown.

Normally, Daryl was quite adept at hiding his emotions, but this was too much. _Is she tryin' t' fuckin' kill me?!_ "I ain't layin' in here with y' naked, Carol!" he squeaked indignantly. He felt ridiculous lying there sputtering like a green kid instead of the adult he was.

Carol rolled her eyes and tried not to smile as he tried to preserve his modesty. "Don't be silly. My blanket is dry, and I can spread yours over the top of the sleeping bag to dry … and it will also provide us more warmth. It's the most logical solution. I don't know why you're being so stubborn. There's little any of us can do until our clothes dry, Daryl."

He gnawed on his lip, chewing over her words. _Why's she got t' make so much damn sense? Fuck!_ "Fine!" he hissed, his face resembling an over-ripe tomato by the time he unwrapped the blanket from his body and thrust it at her. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch Carol climb in beside him. Unfortunately, it wasn't working. Every one of her movements was brought into sharp focus in his mind's eye, feeling her spread his damp blanket, the corner of the sleeping bag lifting in her delicate hand, her long slender legs sliding in next to him. It was fucking torture.

 **A/n: Big hugs for BettyBubble for breaking this monster down into chapters for me. Apparently, it was too long to be a o/s (as per my usual). Hope you're all staying safe out there this holiday season! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing.**


	3. Melting Hearts

Chapter Three - Melting Hearts

 **Warning: There is smut in this chapter, so if that's not your thing, here's your friendly warning. Happy Christmas to you all!**

And his body responded immediately. His breath hitched, her scent wrapping around him to invade his frayed senses, his skin tightened, feeling too constricting for his frame as her hands reached for him, and he couldn't mistake the darkening of her eyes as her gaze locked with his in the dim light. He was trapped there with her in a cocoon of warmth and his inner beast yearned to be unleashed, to take, to claim, with raw abandon. Tremors still ripped through his body, his heart pumping double time to battle the cold and restore his temperature, yet he was afraid to allow her any closer, his fingers wrapping tightly around her wrist to stop her from touching him, unsure if he could contain the primal side of his nature if she did.

Carol laid her head on their shared pillow – the same one he'd scavenged for her the last time she'd woken with a crick in her neck – and shushed him gently, relaxing her hand as he held her wrist in his iron grip. He was scared. Did he think she couldn't see it raw and bare, shining forth from his tortured gaze? She was no stranger to past abuse, having suffered at the hands of someone who was supposed to have loved her, which was why she tread so carefully with her Dixon. His own ghosts were no doubt the reason he'd chosen her to begin with, to shelter and care for, his _person_ , his _reason._ They all had a reason to fight for their survival. Before she'd thought it was merely due to their friendship … but now? Now she could see the heat in his smoky blue eyes, the longing and desire he wasn't able to hide. Yet still, she couldn't bring herself to bridge the gap and give in to the burning need she felt for him. She didn't think she could bear the rejection should he turn away from her, but she would _not_ allow him to suffer.

Her breath fanned over the shell of his ear, and he shuddered from top to toe, his grip bruising now, yet it didn't faze her in the least. Nothing he could ever do would compare to what Ed had been capable. "Daryl … you have to let me warm you. I know you don't like to be touched, but … please, I need you to let me help you. I can't lose you … not like this," she pleaded, her voice at the same time urgent yet whisper-soft.

The breath rushed out of him, and his grip loosened until she was able to pull away – which she took as a good sign – and she smiled softly. Tentatively, so as not to rush him, her fingers danced along the cold skin of his arm, curling over his shoulder and guiding him to roll towards her. Carol forced herself not to flinch as his nose burrowed against her throat. He was reminiscent of a marble statue as she fitted herself flush with him, cursing the cold and the thick quilt trapping her body heat. She felt every tremor and shiver which wracked his frame, and she could feel tears gather behind her lids at the fruitlessness of her actions.

Carol held him tightly, refusing to allow him the chance to run, assuring him with her gentle touch she was no threat. She knew how hard this must be for him as her hands roamed over his scarred back, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. Even on the road, out in the open and terrified to light even the smallest of campfires, they'd never suffered such bone-numbing cold. Anger fueled her blood with every brush of her fingers … enraged by the fates which had brought this brave man so low and fury for his father to make Daryl shy away from the basic comfort of having her warm him.

She didn't believe for a second Daryl was afraid of what she might do to him. She'd never harm him. It had to go deeper than that, she mused. They'd shared a bedroll almost since the night they'd fled the farm. The only thing which had changed was … A lightbulb clicked on, bright and blinding in her subconscious. He was afraid she'd have a problem with being so intimately pressed to him in the confines of their bedding. She gave herself a mental facepalm. Why hadn't she seen it before? As close as they'd become over the past months, she hadn't delved deeply enough to see he feared rejection from her even moreso than he did from the others. _Nice going, Carol Ann!_

She had to take a chance she was right. And if she wasn't … well, she'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

The whole of his body quaked, and he wasn't entirely convinced it was strictly due to the cold making his skin prickle with pins and needles as blood returned to his nerve endings. He'd never shown his scars to another living soul. Even when Hershel had patched him up after that fateful day he'd injured himself at the ravine, he'd been careful not to let the man see the evidence of abuse carved into his skin. Only Carol, and that hadn't been his choice. It was a common occurrence to slip off past the tree line wherever they chose to make camp to change his clothes, not one to need or want an audience.

She'd come upon him, his back in full view as he'd been changing his shirt. Her soft gasp, the look of horror on her face and the subsequent rage which had turned his blood hot, had scared him a little. She'd ignored his anger then just as she did now, and wrapped her arms around his body as it vibrated with fury at her discovery. Carol had wept for him, for the pain he'd suffered and in turn showed him the scars littering her own torso, both back and front, testament to her husband's sick twisted perversions.

It had only made him want to protect her even more, to shield her from the insanity of the world and hold her close to his heart. Now as he rested in her arms, her fingers tracing gently over every uneven patch of skin, the memories were distant, a mere echo of his past instead of an attack on his mind where his father's face and words came again and again in vivid detail. Carol's sleep was no longer disturbed with visions of Ed. They were slowly healing one another, he realized, and he felt the weight lift from his shoulders and send him inching closer to his woman.

Despite the pain in his body, he felt as if he could sleep there with her for a week. All that went to hell when he felt her withdraw enough to pull the quilt from around her petite form. "What're y' doin', woman?!" he hissed, his eyes wide. There was no place to retreat from her nakedness, nowhere to hide. His inner beast roared in delight just as his fears urged him to run.

Daryl watched her as she wiggled around until she could pull the quilt from around her and thrust it over their heads to land haphazardly on the rug. The breath froze in his lungs as she reached for him. What was he supposed to do with his hands? What if she felt …

It was Carol's turn to shiver as she once again pressed herself flush with his body, his skin so frigid compared to her heat. Goosebumps erupted on her arms as her hands spread out over his chest to curl up and around his neck, pulling his unresponsive form against her. "The quilt was trapping my body heat and was keeping me from warming you properly," she explained, dragging his head down to rest against the crook of her neck. "This is much better."

Daryl angled his lower body away from her and hesitantly brought his hand to settle on her hip. "How is this better? Now you're cold too."

Her nipples pebbled against his chest, and her pearly teeth sank into her lower lip, biting hard to stifle the low moan fighting its way from her throat. She could only hope he attributed her body's response to the cold instead of the flaming need coursing through her body. "N-No, I'm ok. Just relax," she purred, dragging her nails across his nape.

"Carol …" The sound slipped past his lips in a ragged whisper as his nose skimmed along the ivory column of her throat. It felt so right … with her … in that moment … but he couldn't allow himself to get lost. She was simply trying to warm, to comfort, and … _fuck it all to hell!_ The hand passively resting against her hip tightened possessively, pulling her closer, the other sliding up her back to grasp her nape, tilting her head to give his lips better access. He licked a long swath of her skin from the base of her throat to her ear, the sweet salty taste of her skin exploding on his tongue and making his head reel with the drugging effects of her perfection. "For fuck's sake, Carol … tell me t' stop," he groaned, his low graveled voice a seductive plea.

Carol shuddered with what he hoped was pleasure, surprising him as she slung her leg over his hip and hauled him closer, her core cradling his thick cock. "No … that's the last thing I'll ever ask of you," she breathed, trailing her fingers along his jaw and tilting his face up to meet her sloe-lidded gaze.

To prove her point, she swiveled her hips, grinding against his turgid length until he groaned, her wet heat sliding over his cock with wanton need. "Y' … gawd, woman … y' didn't ask for this. Y' deserve better –"

The cool pads of her fingertips traced his lips, smiling as she noticed the color returning to them. Her other hand carded through his hair, the clean strands like silk against her digits. "I've loved you for a long time, Daryl. I just never thought you'd want me this way. I was more than content having you as my friend … even though I wanted more. I wanted to give up … after Sophia, losing the farm, our pitiful existence on the road moving place to place with no hope … but you wouldn't let me. It was then I realized it was _you_."

"What was me?" he panted, trying to regain his focus – which was damn near impossible when his woman was grinding on his cock. _Did she really jus' say she loved me?!_

"My reason to go on, to survive … to _live_. You don't have to feel the same way, just don't push me away. This doesn't have to change anything, but I won't lie to you. I _do_ love you, Daryl Dixon, with my whole heart." Carol buried her face against his throat, hiding her eyes and the tears she couldn't restrain. She wanted this, _needed_ him with a burning passion, but she didn't want to see pity in his eyes. She didn't think she could bear it.

He felt as if his tongue were glued to the roof of his mouth. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he needed to tell her. It piled there behind his teeth like a train wreck, refusing to push past and relieve her fears. _Fuck that!_ Daryl trailed his hand over her side until he could place one gentle calloused finger beneath her chin to tilt her head up. Without a word, he slanted his lips over hers, tenderly coaxing her to open for him. Carol didn't hold back, giving him what he wanted, though her eyes were still wide and wary, as though she was just waiting for him to break her.

Daryl panted, trying to muster some control. Sweat beaded along his brow and the tremors brought on by the cold had ceased only to be replaced with a different kind of trembling. He held her gaze, refusing to be a coward or any of the numerous derogatory terms his brother was so fond of calling him. "Woman, you're crazy if y' think this don't change things between us," he growled, his eyes deep pools of intensity as they locked with hers. "Y' need t' be sure this is what y' want, 'cause there ain't no goin' back t' how things've been." When her lips parted to argue, he swooped in and kissed her breathless once more. "Be sure, Carol. We do this … you're mine. Y' belong t' me. MINE. Mine t' protect, t' love, t' honor … always, from here on out. You're it for me."

Her fingers tightened in his hair and the sound which escaped his throat was positively feral. Carol had been enslaved to an abusive, controlling monster for the better part of two decades, but there was no doubt in her mind the possessiveness in Daryl's voice was on the opposite end of the spectrum from Ed. Where once she'd prayed for freedom, now she relished the idea of belonging to her hunter. With every word and deed, little by little, he'd already shown her he would never stray or forsake the bond they'd forged. A shiver passed through her at the thought of how that bond would grow if she'd just take a chance on him.

Tears misted her eyes once more, but there was no sorrow to be found there; only happiness. "I'm sure … I want to be yours."

Daryl released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. She'd taken so long to give him the answer he desired, he hadn't been sure she would answer at all. His old doubts had crept in, making him begin to believe he'd already fucked up. Yet, she'd banished them in an instant with her sweet smile and affirmation.

He let his body melt a little more into hers, reveling in the pure sensation she evoked within him. "Jus' as I'm yours, Carol. As sure as if I'd jus' put a ring on your finger … I'm yours."

Carol moaned softly, so wrapped up in her joy she nearly forgot there were others scattered about the room. Her body was on fire, sweat-slicked skin rubbing sensuously against her, the ache in her womb begging for relief as he kissed her with wild abandon. There was barely room to move in the cramped sleeping bag, but it didn't seem to deter her lover.

There wasn't a place on her body Daryl didn't touch as his lips trailed a hot path of sin down the column of her neck, tongue paying homage to her fair freckled skin, teeth tugging, leaving his mark for all to see. He knew they'd have some explaining to do in the morning, but he couldn't have cared less in the moment, not when his woman was writhing wantonly in his arms, her nails scoring rivers of red down his back.

He was impossibly hard, the slow slip and slide through her molten folds making his quest for restraint an unattainable dream. Daryl brought his rough hand up to cover her breast, the pert bud at its center pressing hotly into his palm. He circled it with his thumb, teasing her as her back arched, pressing her closer to his heated skin. God, how he wanted to slip deep into her heat and lose himself, to claim her irrevocably, to make her _his_. "Carol …"

Her nails dug into his side, and he hissed, biting his lips as the pain mixed with his pleasure and sent him to new heights. "Please … now!" she breathed, hitching her leg higher on his hip to give him more room. "Don't make me wait anymore. Daryl …"

Carol wrapped her hand around his cock, wishing she could see all of him in the muted light from the opening of the sleeping bag, and guided him to her entrance as his lips closed around her nipple. He grinned as she let out a choked cry and impaled herself on him, letting it go with a wet pop and moving up to claim her lips.

Daryl could never remember seeing anything so beautiful as he watched her shiver uncontrollably in his arms, taking all of him. "Look at me!" he commanded, nipping at the throbbing pulse point beneath her jaw. He forced himself to remain still, wanting nothing to distract her. "MINE! _My_ woman … _my_ Carol … Gawd, I love y' so goddamn much."

Tears gathered in her eyes at his heartfelt admission, and she buried her face against his throat as he began to move. She'd never been filled so perfectly before, neither her body nor her heart. It almost didn't seem right that the world had to end to find him, but she would spend the rest of her life thanking god for allowing her to know him. He was _hers_ , and it just made their joining all the more special.

Daryl growled, a low rumbling sound of pleasure which spread up from his chest. Positioning was limited in the small space they occupied, and what he wouldn't give for a bed right then. An enormous king-size where he could lay her out and feast on every inch of her flesh, worship her like the goddess she was and then thank her for it. His hand gripped her hip tightly as he pounded into her silken heat, reveling in her breathy little moans against his neck and the tiny flutters which had begun to clasp his cock. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to bear it, but he would not finish without her. He would not leave her disappointed. In all things, she would be happy, he vowed.

"Let go, sweetheart … now … I need t' feel it … t' feel y' ..."

The pressure was unbearably sweet, nothing close to anything she'd ever felt before aside from her own hand, and she was almost reluctant to let it go. And just as the tension built low in her belly, so did a scream perch precariously on her tongue.

"Carol … please," he groaned, feeling the electric spark crackle and jolt at the base of his spine.

She fell, the line tethering her to the earth snapping free to send her flying. Her teeth sank into the corded muscle of his neck, the scream muffled against his skin. The pain sent a surge of lust straight to his cock, and there wasn't enough willpower in the world to stop him from following her, his hips jerking erratically as he spilled himself within her.

*.*.*

Daryl woke sometime near dawn to find himself stretched out on his back, a half-moon grin curling one side of his mouth. He could feel Carol's blunt fingernails drawing nonsensical patterns on his chest, a slow soothing touch he discovered he liked rather well. However, he didn't too much care for the worry evident in her lovely azure eyes as he lifted his head to seek her gaze. She was sprawled over his chest, her chin resting on her hand, her teeth worrying anxiously at her full lower lip. "Hey, beautiful," he purred with a lazy stretch before wrapping his arms around her.

"Hey," she returned, the tension leaving her in an instant.

"What's wrong?" he queried softly, hauling her upwards for a sweet kiss. "Y' sleep ok?"

"For a while. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Y' didn't. Need t' go take a piss … but first I wanna know what has y' lookin' like that. Are y' regrettin' –"

"No," she cut him off, tracing his lips with her forefinger. "No, Daryl. I could never regret something so beautiful. You made me feel so loved." She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth over his beauty mark and sighed. "I was afraid _you_ would. I was watching you sleep, and I couldn't help thinking when you woke, you would run."

Daryl caught her around the waist and rolled her beneath him, kissing her deeply. "I'm through runnin', woman. Got everythin' I could ever want right here. Carol, I meant what I said t' y' last night. We belong t' each other now. Don't matter what we're gonna face down the road, but that simple fact ain't gonna change. Y' hear me?"

She nodded, the smile she reserved only for him, genuine and happy, shining through. He gave her one last kiss before he left the shelter of their bedroll, reaching for his clothes. "You plan on being long?"

"Gonna check th' gates an' walk th' wall, but I'll be back for breakfast," he promised as he pulled on his boots.

"I guess that's my cue to get started," she groaned petulantly, wishing they could just go back to bed for the rest of the morning.

Daryl crawled back over to her, a sexy grin stretching his lips. "Don't be like that, baby. There's always t'night."

She giggled softly as his scruff tickled her neck. "Alright, where's my grumpy Dixon and what have you done with him?"

He grabbed his crossbow and huffed, his eyes locking with hers. "I'm sure he's still here … y' jus' gave him a reason t' smile."

THE END

 **A/n: Happy Christmas to all who are reading this! All the chocolaty marshmallow Santas for my readers! I really hope y'all are having a wonderful holiday filled with joy and love. Stay safe out there.**

 **A stocking full of love and kisses for my betas: BettyBubble and Geektaire … two wonderful ladies who welcomed me into their lives and made me part of their family. I love you, ladies. More love for Marie1063 and CLADD who are always there with hugs when things just don't want to go my way. And Merry Christmas, Bug! I hope your holiday was blessed. Love you all!**


	4. A Little Bit?

**Alternate ending …**

Carol shot Lori a grin as her friend stumbled into the kitchen before turning back to the breakfast she was preparing. They were going to feast that morning. Daryl had brought her a few squirrels – the furry creatures being plentiful on the property – and had retrieved the camp stove from where it had been stored in the Suburban. The vast pantry had yielded some quick grits, a few cartons of hashbrowns which needed only a little water before adding them to the skillet, and several containers of powdered eggs.

"Morning," she greeted. "There's coffee if you need a little pick-me-up."

Lori groaned and rubbed her baby bump. "I really shouldn't, but I just can't seem to wake up."

"Didn't sleep well?" Carol queried as she added some spices to the quartered squirrels and placed them in the frying pan.

"No," the sheriff's wife grumbled, nearly burying her nose in her coffee cup. "I was sandwiched between Rick and Carl, and they were both restless. Frankly, I'm surprised Rick decided to sleep with us last night."

Carol peeked up at the brunette through her long lashes. "Have you tried talking to him?"

Lori snorted, her mouth twisting in irritation. "Every time I try, he runs off or changes the subject. He doesn't want to talk to me, Carol."

"Someone needs to lock the two of you in a closet and not let you out until you work through your problems," Maggie said as she strolled into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. "What? You know it's long past time."

Carol grinned and began plating the food, arranging the serving dishes along the center island. One of the things she loved so much about Maggie was that she wasn't afraid to come out and speak her mind. "That idea has merit. _And_ it might prolong our stay here."

"Y'all are _not_ locking us in a closet."

A slow grin spread across Maggie's face. "You also said Dixon wouldn't bathe."

Both women fixed Carol with a questioning stare. "What?"

"Well did he?" Lori asked. "Everyone was bedded down before he came in last night."

Carol blushed to the roots of her hair and began piling food on a plate for Maggie. "He did."

Maggie nudged Lori in the side with her elbow. "She's blushing." She stared a little harder at the woman. "Something tells me he didn't crawl into bed with you last night wearing wet clothes."

Lori gaped as Carol's blush deepened and she averted her gaze, her fingers toying with the collar of her button up. "Carol, you didn't!"

Carol reached for another plate and met Lori's wide-eyed gaze. "Did you want eggs this morning?"

But her friends were having none of her evasions. Lori rounded the island on one side, Maggie on the other.

"Finally?"

"Was it good?"

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Oh, my god, I bet he's a beast in the sack!"

Carol calmly set the plate down on the countertop and buried her face in her hands. "I refuse to discuss this with you, so drop it."

Maggie's face fell. "Aw, c'mon, Carol, you have to give us something? We've been rooting for y'all for a while now."

Carol groaned. "Daryl and I are … together. That's all I'm willing to say." There was no way she was going to sit there and give them a play by play. "I'm sorry if –"

"Get th' fuck offa me!" rang through the lower levels of the house in a panicked growl, effectively cutting Carol off.

Carl ran through the kitchen, skidding to a halt next to his mother, tugging frantically on her sleeve. "Mom, Mom, Mom! Daryl's been bitten! You gotta come …"

Carol didn't need to hear anymore, racing from the room, her heart shattered and broken.

*.*.*

Daryl had sat on the wall, watching the sun rise in the eastern sky, enjoying the peace and stillness surrounding him. He'd glimpsed a few walkers off in the distance, but they hadn't tried to make their way towards the gates. As he'd lit a cigarette, he'd had to admit it was a good change of pace. They'd been running for months, blocked by one herd after another, and now, to find a safe haven in the midst of such peril brought a rare smile to his lips.

He wanted to check out the nearby town, and see if they could stock up on necessities. The old plantation house with it's walls would be the perfect place to hole up for a while. It would give them a chance to rest, to heal and regain their strength. After a while, he'd walked the wall, the brick edifice wide enough to traverse safely without losing his balance as he'd checked the perimeter. He still couldn't believe they'd stumbled upon such a place, nearly sheltered from the chaos they'd lived with over the past months.

Assured of their safety for the time being, he'd done a little hunting, procuring a few squirrels for their breakfast. On the walk back to the house, he couldn't fight the smile itching to bloom across his face as he thought of Carol. _His woman._ It made him wonder if he'd done something really amazing in a past life to have been blessed with her love. She gave him a reason to survive, to _live_. His greatest fear was losing her – had been for a long time – but he wouldn't let that fear beat him down. He'd already made strides to make sure she could protect herself, and he would continue to do so. He would be extra vigilant now that he held her heart.

After cleaning the squirrels, he brought them to her along with the camp stove he grabbed from the Suburban. With it, she'd be able to avail herself of the kitchen instead of trying to cook over the hearth in the library. The others could sleep a little longer without being disturbed. Carol was much like him, relishing the hour or so before dawn in peace and solitude before the others rose.

Daryl drew in a deep breath, the cold air refreshing after a good night's sleep in front of the fire with his woman nestled against his chest. He walked the perimeter of the spring, his fingers brushing against the bite mark on his neck where her sharp little teeth had sunk in to muffle her screams. He shivered. He could feel the indentation of each tooth, the broken skin which had already scabbed over. His vixen. She'd thoroughly claimed him as her own, her mark of possession warming his heart and making him prideful. He didn't care who saw it; he'd wear it with pride. A little teasing from the group would be well worth having Carol as his own. The still water made his grin widen, thinking the next time he took a dip in the warm spring, Carol would be with him.

Unable to delay any longer, Daryl made his way to the house. Breakfast should be ready, and he was eager to eat and gather up some of the group to head into town. And if he were honest, he'd admit he was anxious to see his woman.

Rick, Glenn and T-Dog were milling around the foyer discussing watch rotation when he let himself into the house. He set his crossbow down on one of the side tables and nodded at them. "I walked th' perimeter. It's quiet. Thought after breakfast we could head –"

He looked up to see three horrified gazes locked on him, two seconds before Rick and T-Dog tackled him to the floor, Glenn sitting on his chest to keep him down. "Th' fuck is wrong with y'all?!" he roared. "Get th' fuck offa me!"

"You're bit," Rick choked out, fighting with Daryl's left arm.

Daryl was struggling to breathe. Glenn was a lot heavier than he looked, apparently. He could hear footsteps running in their direction, and he hoped one set of them belonged to Hershel. He was the voice of reason, and could hopefully talk some sense into their stubborn leader.

"I ain't bit … what th' fuck is wrong with y'?!"

T-Dog sadly shook his head. "Man, we can see it. When did it happen?"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Glenn asked, tears in his dark eyes.

"Man, I'm tellin' y' … Carol!" he bellowed. It had finally dawned on him _why_ they thought he was doomed. "Carol!"

"I'm here!" she called, though he couldn't see her past the broad shoulders of his supposed friends. "Stop it, all of you. Get off of him so he can breathe!"

Rick stared at her over his shoulder to see her hand clasped firmly over the handle of her knife. "Carol, he's a danger to us all. I know how important he is to you … to all of us, but –"

"Let me see," she demanded, her eyes flashing hotly. "He's not a walker, Rick, and I won't let you treat him this way. If he's been bitten, we will deal with it … later."

T-Dog and Glenn backed off quickly, and Daryl was able to shrug Rick off of him as Carol came to kneel next to him. He met her eyes knowingly as her delicate fingers brushed over the mark she'd left on his neck. His own blush was rivaled by hers, and if he weren't so furious with their friends, he would have laughed.

"What was y' plannin' t' do, Rick? Stab me in th' head before I even took m' last breath?" he accused, his words clipped.

Carol wrapped her arms around herself, on hand rising to pluck nervously at her collar. "That's not a walker bite," she said quietly. "Walker bites do not heal, Rick, and you can clearly see this one has already scabbed over." She was mortified. She'd expected a good bit of ribbing from the group, but not in a million years would she have thought they'd react like this. "I … uhm … that was me. I …"

When she didn't continue, Rick gaped at her. "You did that? Why?"

Daryl groaned and rolled his eyes. "Y' really need us t' spell it out?"

Rick still looked confused while Maggie and Lori snickered quietly in the background. Carol simply peeled her collar away from her neck and showed him the mark Daryl had left on her. Dawning realization caused Rick's face to flood with color. "Oh … uh … well."

Carol rose to her feet and offered Daryl a hand up, curling her arm around his waist as he pulled her into his side. "Well, let's eat before our breakfast gets cold." She looked up at Daryl, her eyes promising to make up for the embarrassment he'd suffered. "I'm sure you must be hungry."

Daryl grunted and led her towards the kitchen. One thing for sure, their stay there wouldn't be boring.

 **A/n: I have no excuse for this … well, maybe just a little one. I was done, happy with my work, piddling in the kitchen with all this holiday food, and bam! This came to attack my frontal lobe until I sat down to write it. And you all know how persistent the blood ponies can be. Anyway, thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! Hope you had a fabulous holiday!**


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